Embrace the Fire (28 page)

It angered him, more than it ever had before. When he had worked in the arena at Dragon Hollow, he'd been numbed to the majestic creatures' painful captivity. It had been normal, and though he'd felt sorry for the Dragons, he'd been too downtrodden himself to consider their plight. Sebastian, uncaring in his majestic throne room, wished only for trained creatures in battle, and he issued his harsh commands to his Dimn with little thought for the screams of the beasts that echoed through the Dragon keep. To protect himself, Ayden had deadened his pain behind blind obedience.

Until Kinna.

Kinna had changed that, kindling a flame in his blind depths, lighting his passion for justice and freedom, giving him a light by which to see.

“Luasa, go lower.” He guided the Dragon toward the parapets, surveying the guards standing at attention along the castle walls and the citizens wandering through various courtyards outside of the kitchens and the weapons rooms. ClarenVale put Sebastian's castle in The Crossings to shame. No wonder the King hungered for his old home.

It was his own fault that he had lost it in the first place. Treachery rarely paid for itself.

Luasa landed on the battlements outside the Dragon arena, between two sets of guards who stood fifty spans apart, one of each set facing the eastern mountains outside the castle, the others facing the arena.

When Luasa arrived, all four guards jerked their gazes toward Ayden, but Luasa had landed on the wall instead of the walkway and did not block their vision. As Luasa's shimmering scales were cloaked in invisibility, the guards did nothing more than search for something amiss.

Ayden waited for the next time the Ember emerged from the overhang. He didn't have to wait long.

With a rush of swirling, stifling air, the Ember appeared between the ceiling beams of the arena, flying upward as far as his tether-chain would allow. On his head, prominent and recognizable, was the crooked fin that set him apart from every other Ember Ayden had ever seen.

Ayden searched the arena floor. Several Dimn worked with their Dragons, but he could see no sign of the auburn-haired Dragon-Master.

The soldiers on either side of him were making Luasa nervous. One of them shouted to the others, and two of them jogged forward to meet in the middle, directly in front of Luasa.

Ayden clutched the Dragon's neck.
The ground outside.

Luasa left the wall, silently, as swiftly as a bird in flight. The soldiers never even noticed.

When she descended half a fieldspan from the wall behind the first row of trees, Ayden slid from her back. His body reappeared as soon as he lost contact with the Dragon's scales.

The Dragon-Master was inside the walls of ClarenVale, but how to penetrate the castle walls to find and free him? The Ember presented a problem, too. He knew that Cedric had formed an attachment to the Dragon, an attachment that had seemed to point toward a future
psuche
connection. Ayden expected Cedric would be unwilling to leave the Dragon behind—even if they hadn't achieved
psuche
.

Ayden absently rubbed Luasa's snout, though he couldn't see it. The Dragon's warm breath wafted over him. “We could try landing in the arena itself, but there are too many Dragons and Dimn in there now. If we did it in the heart of the night, it would be too obvious to the guards that something was different.”

“We could create a distraction.” Kinna's voice came from mere spans away.

Ayden's breath left him in a whoosh. He stepped backward and tripped on his heels, landing hard on the ground. “Kinna?”

She materialized high up on Chennuh's neck, her hand just leaving his topmost fin. Lincoln hugged a fin on Chennuh's back, his face a little pale. Kinna grinned at Ayden. “Greetings.”

Ayden pushed to a sitting position, propping himself on his hands. “What under the Stars are you doing here? I just sent you back to West Ashwynd mere hours ago!”

“And I unsent myself and followed you instead.”

“How long have you been here? Don't you know how dangerous this is?”

“No more so than for you.”

“But there's only
one
of me!” Ayden wanted to shout, to rail at this woman who drove him to the brink of sanity, but the palace guards stood a mere half a fieldspan away on the castle walls, and only a spare tree cover shielded them from their view.

“And now there are
two
of us.”

“Three,” Lincoln muttered.

“Kinna,” Ayden blew out his breath in exasperation. “You are supposed to go to West Ashwynd. The people need word of what is happening, and this is your opportunity to fill in where Sebastian is failing.”

“And I will. I will get there.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. Her braid had come loose, and the river of fire tossed in the breeze. “I'm not leaving you in danger, and I'm not going back without my brother.”

“Kinna, I am well able to take care of myself, and I told you I would bring you Cedric.”

“Don't you understand?” Kinna jumped down from Chennuh's head. “Cedric and I belong together. If we are to take back our throne, we do it
together.
This is not a one-person deal. We came from the Dragon's egg together, and together, we will rule.” Her lips twisted ruefully. “If we succeed, that is.”

“You will,” Ayden murmured. “But not if you keep being so reckless and impulsive.”

“You mean helping you?”

“Yes!”

“Fine. Leave. I'll take care of Cedric myself.” She turned to help Lincoln down from the Dragon's back, but Lincoln had clearly had enough of the heated scales, and he leaped free, rolling into a somersault on the moist earth.

“You left too soon, Ayden,” Linc muttered as he dusted himself off. “The Dryad popped back out and gave us a message after you had gone. I don't know if he trusted you.”

Ayden stared at him. “What did he say?”

“There's a tree that grows in the kitchen courtyard at ClarenVale. The Dryad who makes his home in that tree sent a plea for help from Cedric himself only yesterday.”

“Sent the plea to whom?”

“To me.”

“To you?” Ayden's mouth gaped open. “Why you? What are you talking about?”

“Cedric needed—Helga's help, and he must have thought that I would likely figure out a way to contact her.” Lincoln scuffed his toe on the ground as he spoke. Ayden narrowed his eyes.

“What aren't you saying, Linc?”

“Cedric plans to escape, but he needs a Seer Fey's
taibe
to free a maid from a tracking spell so he can bring her with him.”

“A maid!” He glanced back at the castle walls. “I hope he knows better than to bring the Lady Lianna.”

“The Dryad explained that Lianna forced him to ClarenVale against his wishes to train Erlane's Dragons, and that the tracking spell binds Lianna's slave, a maid named Ashleen. I gather that he owes this maid his life, and he won't leave ClarenVale without her.”

“What are we to do, then?” Ayden snapped. “We don't know where Helga is. She's been missing for months.”

“No longer.”

Kinna and Ayden both stared at Lincoln. Kinna's mouth hung open. “What are you saying, Linc?”

Lincoln dropped his gaze. “Once Cedric is free from ClarenVale, I can take him and his maid directly to Helga. She will be able to rid the girl of the tracking spell, and then all of us can return to West Ashwynd.”

“How do you know all this, Linc?” Kinna asked. Her face was white in the moonlight. Her fingers gripped a tree trunk, holding herself steady.

“I'll explain everything later. But if we're going to get Cedric and his maid out, we have no time to lose.”

“How do we know, then, when Cedric plans to escape?” Kinna's mouth twisted into a worried frown.

“We don't,” Lincoln answered. “We go in and help him get out, of course.”

Ayden snorted. “Three of us entering the castle is far too risky. Five people escaping, even with our Dragons, even with Pixie magic,” he nodded at Lincoln, “is bound to attract attention.” He glanced through the trees at the walls. The guards still gazed out at the night. An idea sparked in his mind. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “It will be hard to get inside, but I think it can be done.”

Kinna turned. “How? There is no way you'll be able to freely enter and exit those walls.”

“Very true,” Ayden said, grinning at her. “I wouldn't be able to exit as a free man. But what if I were a prisoner?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was sharp.

“What if I allow myself to be taken in a rather ... public way? Cedric won't be able to miss me if, as you say, Linc, he's training Nicholas Erlane's Dragons.”

Kinna's eyes widened in awe and then fear. “No, Ayden, I won't let you.”

Ayden threw her a lopsided grin. “You want to see your brother, don't you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then leave it to me. And give me a kiss for luck.” He winked impudently at her.

Temper sparked in her eyes, and furiously, she turned her back. He tossed a grin at Lincoln and retreated to where Luasa awaited him.

A
yden waited
on the turret roof, his invisible self clinging to Luasa's invisible back, waiting for his opportunity. This time, it was slightly easier; two of the guards had gone below—for food—Ayden assumed, but the other two remained as alert as before. They paced across the battlements just below them.

“Okay, Luasa,” he breathed. “I'm ready. Go directly back to the others as soon as I leave you. Keep a careful watch over them, all right?”

Luasa snorted again, louder this time.

The guards stopped walking, whirling toward the turret.

It was too late. Luasa had launched into the air, hurtling over the Dragon arena, where below, Dragons caught scent of her and roared at the skies. Ayden slid free of her, falling through the air, the ground of the arena a hundred spans below him.

His hands caught a chain strung across two of the support beams that arched over the arena. He could see no sign of Luasa, though he could sense her circling above him, watching him.

Sensing his accord, she turned into the blackness, leaving him behind.

Torches lined the arena for a full training session with at least twenty Dimn in attendance and twenty Dragons roaring on the tiers. Above the ground level, tunnels opened from the walls where other Dragons hissed and roared and belched fire. The whole place was a chaotic, screaming mass of Dragons and Dragondimn.

Every last one of them were looking at him.

In the center of the arena, far below him, stood an auburn-haired boy whose head was thrown back, watching him.

Ayden took a deep breath and swung toward the support beam and the nearest wall.

As he climbed down the wall, ledge by ledge, he kept clear of the Poison-Quills that lined the arena tiers. Occasionally a talon swiped at him, but he avoided them.

When he reached two spans above the arena floor, he jumped to the ground. The Dimn had crowded around the pole, and he found himself surrounded by curious onlookers.

“How'd ye think that 'appened?” One sickly-looking Dimn stood against the wall, his fingers through the iron bars of a cage, stroking a Dragon's snout. “Erlane's guards don't never let us out. 'Ow'd he get in?”

Cedric passed through the ring of onlookers, stopping in front of Ayden, his arms crossed over his chest. His hazel eyes burned with familiarity that belied the words that left his lips. “Who do you think you are, a country boy out for a lark, sure you can entertain the King's Dimn?”

“Aye,” Ayden said, spitting to the side. He needed water; it had been a hard descent. “Thought I'd try my luck.”

“He tried it all right,” a deep voice said from the back, “and failed.” A tall man in armor pushed to the front, his sword drawn. “You're trespassing on royal grounds, boy, and you're under arrest.”

“Too bad,” Ayden muttered as he turned his back and allowed the man to bind his wrists. “I've never fancied Dragons, and now I'm in a den of them.”

Words of derision rang out from the Dimn; none of them were, after all, afraid of the creatures.

“At least,” Ayden raised his voice, “there are no Embers here. They're the worst of all.”

“Afraid of an Ember, eh?” Cedric laughed. “Did you lot hear that? He's afraid of an Ember.”

The Dimn laughed and hooted as the armored guard pulled Ayden toward the tunnel.

“My Ember needs meat, and the fresher the better,” Cedric told the guard. “Stick the boy in with him. If he's not dead by morning, he'll never fear a Dragon again.”

“You can give 'im cattle before the night's out—”

“Am I not the Dragon-Master? I know what Dragons need and what will be best for them. You'll put the boy in my Ember's den, or I'll take it to Nicholas Erlane himself. And anything I have to say about Dragons, the King listens to.”

The guard's cheeks reddened beneath Cedric's angry stare. He bowed stiffly. “Aye, Dragon-Master.” He yanked on one last knot in Ayden's restraints. “Come with me, boy.”

Ayden followed the man, tossing a glance at Cedric as he passed. The auburn-haired boy nodded a nearly imperceptible nod. Ayden breathed a sigh of relief, though the hardest part was yet to come.

C
edric called
for the end of the training session, hefting the winch that raised the arena gate. He rubbed a cloth over his neck as the Dimn sent their Dragons to their dens, and the creatures left, some quite unwillingly, through the various exits up and down the tiers.

Dimn removed helmets and placed them in the weaponry on one side of the arena, brushing smoke from their clothes as they exited the arena in twos and threes, discussing the strange appearance of the boy from the sky, as they called him.

Cedric draped the cloth around his neck and smothered the torches that hung from brackets across the arena. When he'd put out the last one, he glanced through the open ceiling at the moon.

It shone, half-obscured behind cloud strata, its silvery glow muted and dull. He sighed. If he were to escape tonight, that was important. He'd hoped that Lincoln would find a way to send a message back through Skandar, and he and Ashleen could escape when he knew Helga was nearby.

Cedric exited the arena, listening to the voices of his peers fading into the distance. He pulled the winch that lowered the door again, his heart already pounding with adrenaline.

The guards that always accompanied him waited in the corridor. “I'm going to check on the maid Ashleen,” he told them. They were used to this; they would think nothing of it.

“Ye'll do nought of the sort. 'Is Grace wishes to speak at ye.”

Cedric blinked at them, panic spiraling through him. Had Nicholas Erlane any idea what Ayden looked like? Had he been watching from the tiered balconies and recognized him?

“Move it, lad. Ye've not got the night long.”

How true
. An escape would take some time, and Cedric didn't want to tarry long. With a sigh, he allowed the guard to take the lead. The second guard fell in behind him.

They passed through a moonlit courtyard, twisting through several corridors and up stairs until they neared the tallest central tower where Nicholas Erlane kept his quarters.

The guard led him to a spiraling stone staircase. Cedric glanced up. Circle after circle after circle of stairs disappeared into torch-tinged darkness far above.

“Nicholas Erlane sleeps here?” Cedric asked.

“The less you say, t'better, lad.”

The guard started up the stairs, and Cedric followed. He lost count of the circuits they made around the tower. Slitted windows allowed a breath of fresh, night air, and torches flickered weirdly off the stones.

When they finally reached the top, Cedric and the guards were all panting. The first guard knocked.

“Come.”

The guard opened the door and ushered Cedric inside.

It was a massive, circular apartment. In the center of the room, a great, golden bed dwarfed the rest of the furniture. An oak table stood to Cedric's right, lined with six ornately carved oaken chairs. Windows gave Cedric an impressive view of the Marron Mountains bathed in moonlight and the rest of ClarenVale far, far below.

Smaller tables were littered with parchment rolls and candlesticks. Wax spotted the wood, splashed haphazardly across the surface.

A massive throne was centered in front of the largest window, its high back facing the middle of the room. Cedric could just see the armrest from his angle, and a limp, white hand hung over its edge. It lifted. “Leave us.”

The guards beside Cedric bowed and exited the chamber, pulling the door shut behind them.

“Come, Dragon-Master.”

Cedric moved to where he could see the King. Nicholas Erlane was dwarfed by the enormous chair. His long, white hair lay unbound, spread across a bear pelt. His indigo eyes stared out the windows.

Nicholas Erlane turned his gaze on Cedric. He said nothing for a long moment, and Cedric shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could return to Ashleen and begin his plan for escape.

“How very like your father you are,” he murmured.

“I have heard that before,” Cedric returned.

A smile flitted over the King's face. “Even down to his quick answers.” He stood and approached the windows, motioning Cedric to stand next to him.

Cedric stepped forward warily. He had no weapon, but he wondered if he would be able to gain the upper hand in a wrestling match. The slim man seemed a rather unimpressive opponent, and Pixie magic would have little effect on an heir of Aarkan.

The keen glimmer of a sharp knife at Erlane's belt caught Cedric's eye, though, and the tread of steps outside the door reminded Cedric that escape routes were closed.

“This is the city where you were born. I remember your father's pride when he spoke of his twins. Lismaria celebrated for weeks. Did you know my kingdom of Sanlia also celebrated?” A small smile lifted his lips.

“Why tell me this? It's been many years since my inheritance has mattered at all.”

Erlane laid his fingertips on the stone sill of the window, pursing his lips as he looked out over the city. After a long silent moment, he said, “I need you, Liam—Cedric,” he quickly corrected himself. “Cedric, I need you. I am the King of a country that wars with your uncle, and by blood-right, he perhaps has the greater claim. In you, I see victory for my people. If they rally behind you—”

“Why would they rally behind me?” Cedric stared at him, aghast at the King's insinuation. “I haven't grown up in the palace, have certainly never had training or apprenticeship in the art of government. Simply because my blood links me to my father and to Aarkan, it does not ensure my excellence as a leader.”

Nicholas faced him fully, gripping the sill with his long-fingered hands. “Don't you wish for the power, Cedric? A whole kingdom, at your fingertips?”

“Nay,” Cedric said. “There is only one throne. It does not fit both of us. And I have no wish for it.”

Nicholas Erlane sighed as he smoothed his hand over his hair. “Lianna said you wouldn't want it; I hoped she would be wrong.” He lifted a delicate eyebrow. “Perhaps she would have been the better choice to persuade you.”

“That woman has no power over me, although I see that she is the power behind your throne.” Cedric said curtly. “Now, if that is all you wished to speak to me about, I'll bid you a goodnight.” He struggled to keep urgency from his tone. Ashleen would be wondering where he was. He turned for the door.

“They do not love me, Cedric.”

Cedric stopped at the parchment-covered table, biting back a growl of frustration.

Nicholas turned from the window, his expression lost and lonely. “The people loved your father, nearly worshiped their King, but I cannot maintain their loyalty, and the magic of Pixies only extends so far. In time, they will turn against me.”

“Again, that is not my problem.” This time, Cedric made it to the door. His hand was on the brass handle when Nicholas spoke again.

“You will join Lismaria in battle against your uncle, Cedric.” Erlane angled through the tables and the bed. “You will use your gift of commanding Dragons, whether you like it or not, to bring me one person. Only one.”

“Sebastian?” Cedric couldn't help but ask.

“Nay, the only one that we know of who holds the last knowledge of the whereabouts of the Amulet. You will bring me Sebastian's head Commander, Lanier.”

Cedric dropped his hand from the door handle and strode across the wood flooring to stand directly before the King. “Hear me when I say this, Nicholas Erlane. I will neither bring you Commander Lanier nor Sebastian nor any other person or creature, either West-Ashwynd-born or Lismarian-born. You may hold me imprisoned within your castle, but you cannot command my tongue. When I wish to speak to the Dragons, I will speak, and when I wish to remain silent, I will remain silent. It is best that you understand that I want
nothing
to do with inheriting the throne of my father.” He returned to the door and opened it, facing the King for one final barb. “I have seen the darkness that opens inside a man's heart when he thirsts for power, and that black abyss will never drag me in.”

He ignored the guards as he passed between them and jogged down the stone stairs. He soon outdistanced the guards by many lengths, though he could see them behind him when he strode along the corridor outside the apothecary's chambers.

Cedric pulled in several deep, steadying breaths, cooling his fury. Lives hinged on what he needed to do next, and he couldn't afford to be blinded by anger.

He entered the apothecary's chambers. A glance over his shoulder showed the guards waiting next to the pillars on the far side of the portico.

Ashleen sat on the edge of the cot, her fingers spinning an empty herb cannister. Relief spread over her face when she saw him. “I didn't know what had taken you so long.”

Cedric cleared his throat. “Is the apothecary about?” he asked without bothering to lower his voice.

Ashleen shook her head. “Nay, he has taken His Grace his sleeping tonic.” Her wide, dark eyes surveyed his face. “It's tonight, is it not?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Are you ready for this?” He checked the guards. They stood beneath the portico, excellent targets with their chests and leather fully facing the door. Interior palace guards didn't wear metal armor, only those on the walls.

Fire flashed in Ashleen's black eyes as she threw her shoulders back. “I am no weakling, Dragon-Master.”

“
Don't
call me that.”

Strained silence fell.

“I'm sorry,” Ashleen said after a moment. She set down the herb cannister. “I feel fine. The apothecary said I'd healed nicely—thanks to you.”

“It had little to do with me,” Cedric said. “But I'm glad you're better.” He turned for the loose stone in the wall, the one he'd discovered the night after he'd arrived, and pulled it aside. He reached into the interior where he'd hidden the two crossbows he'd stolen. Handing one to Ashleen and taking one himself, he pushed the stone back into place. “We only have one shaft apiece. We cannot miss,” he breathed.

She narrowed her eyes. “I do not miss, Your Grace.”

Cedric hid a smile. “On my count, then.” In the shadows of the doorway, they took aim. A soft three, two, one sank into a whispered
thunk.
Both guards folded to the ground with a low groan, their leather vests each sprouting a thick arrow.

Cedric set aside the now-useless crossbows. Gripping Ashleen's hand, he pulled her onto the sheltered portico. “To Ember,” he breathed, walking swiftly, slowing only a little as Ashleen's breath quickened beside him. She may have said she was completely healed, but she had yet to regain her stamina.

He found the stairs and descended three floors to the lower dungeon levels where Ember waited for him. He could feel the Dragon's presence as he paced his den, impatient for freedom, curious about the silver-eyed man who sat against the wall, both of them hoping for Cedric's appearance.

Cedric held the door for Ashleen when they reached the corridor, his gaze sweeping the darkened hallways, his ears listening for foreign footsteps. All was silent but for the heavy snorts of Dragons as they huffed in their dens. There were eight Embers in Nicholas Erlane's keep. His Ember slept at the end of a hallway at the juxtaposition of two corridors. Through every door, he could see the ever-flickering orange fire from the different Embers' scales.

Cedric paced down the hallway. Ayden saw him first, though Ember had already sensed his presence. Ayden grasped the iron bars of the den door, eyeing Cedric as he drew even with him.

“You could have warned me, you know,” Cedric muttered as he closed in. “Sent me a message the same way I sent you one.”

“There was no time.” Ayden nodded at Ashleen. “You must be the maid with the tracking spell.”

“Aye,” she answered.

Ayden's silver gaze measured her. At last, he nodded. “If we're to escape tonight, this is the quickest method. I had no time to find another Dryad in another tree. And you would have had no way of knowing that Lincoln awaits you, and he is prepared to take you to his mother to fix the tracking spell upon your escape.”

“How is Kinna?” Cedric asked, sliding a knife from his boot and picking at the lock.

“She is well. Naturally, she hopes to see you before the night is out.”

“You're fortunate Ember didn't make a meal of you.”

“I'm fortunate that you have already achieved
psuche
with the Dragon. I didn't worry that he would eat me.”

Ember snorted an irritated huff from the back of the den, denoting that he had at least considered it.

We'll soon be free, Ember.

Cedric pulled the knife free from the door, frustrated. “I can't ever get that to work.”

“Here, let me.” Ashleen took the knife. With a few deft twists, the lock clicked, and the thick bars of the door split, yawning into the dark corridor. “These locks must have been wrought by West Ashwynd locksmiths,” she smirked.

Ayden grinned, and Cedric flushed as he took the knife from Ashleen's proffered hand and slid it back into his boot. “I'll learn.”

A chuckle left Ashleen's throat that quieted quickly.

Ayden glanced into the black hallway. “Do you plan to storm your way out on Ember's back?”

Cedric shook his head. “There are two sets of guards and two heavy doors to bypass before we gain open air. I'd planned to have Ember play dead with me accompanying him to the courtyard to dispose of his remains. Of course, I did not anticipate having you along. However, if you pull your mantle up and keep your head down, you'll pass as one of my Dimn. I hate to do this; it will require a direct order from me for Ember to play dead, but he'll forgive me for it.” He walked into the den where Ember awaited him, rubbing his hand over Ember's flaming snout. A deep rumble shuddered through the Dragon's throat.

“Ember, want to come?” He smoothed his hands up the flaming neck, allowing the heat to soak into his bones, and then he led the massive Dragon into the corridor.

Ashleen and Ayden had disappeared for a moment; when they reappeared, they had chains wrapped over their shoulders, leaning their weight into pulling a low, flat cart over the cold corridor stones. It was one that was commonly used to carry animal carcasses to the Dragons during their feeding periods, and was kept in a utility entrance near the end of the hall.